


Top of the Fourth

by a_question_of_love (roseandheather)



Series: Inning by Inning [3]
Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF
Genre: Anderson Really Loves Sloths, Anderson is a Shipper on Deck, It's just a giant love-fest, Keith Isn't That Bad At Feelings This Time Actually, Keith and Shep Have A Little Nookie, M/M, Okay maybe it's a lot of nookie, Shep and Keith have fun going slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/a_question_of_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anderson takes off on yet another jaunt across the globe, but this time, he carries more than memories with him. Shep's actions prompt a declaration from Keith which thrills Anderson to the core (and gives him one very special memory to hold on to), and Keith and Shep take advantage of Anderson's absence to explore the ramifications of that declaration and find out more about the special connection that exists between the two of them.</p><p>Also, there is smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Top of the Fourth

"Would it change anything if I asked you not to go?"

Anderson looks up from his duffel bag, smiling regretfully at an undeniably pouting Shep. "Afraid not."

"Thought so," Shep grumbles, and looks away, tears suddenly sparking in his eyes. "I'm gonna miss you," he says, voice catching, and then Anderson is there, drawing him close, kissing him gently.

"I got you," Anderson murmurs, fingers running gently through Shep's hair. "I got you, baby."

"Don't go," Shep mumbles into Anderson's shoulder. "Stay. Just for a minute."

"Okay," says Anderson easily, drawing them down, until they're curled together, foreheads touching, holding each other for just a little longer.

"Oh, Jesus," groans Keith, some time later, as he comes through the door. "The two of you are trying to kill me, aren't you." It's not a question.

"Maybe," Shep admits, laughing softly and leaning in to touch his nose to Anderson's just to drive Keith crazy. "Is it working?"

Keith answers by yanking Shep unceremoniously off the bed and crushing their lips together, hot and hungry. Shep moans into the kiss and and lets his knees go weak, trusting Keith to hold him up, shuddering at the heat that burns through him. He can't help gasping against Keith's lips, can't help grinding their hips together, can't help clutching uselessly at Keith's shirt. This is insane, has been insane from the first moment Keith touched him, a stark contrast to the warm golden syrup of Anderson's sweet, glowing kisses. No, this is wildfires and powder burns, hungry and uncontrolled, and he hears Andy's breath catch behind them as Keith takes his mouth again.

"You'd think _you_ were the one taking off for Afghanistan," mutters Andy, half pleased, half only just a little bit miffed, and Shep just laughs into Keith's mouth.

" _Dammit_ ," Keith breathes at last, pulling away to hug Shep closer. "Every goddamn time, I swear to God -"

"Should I be apologizing?" asks Shep, half serious, and squeaks when Keith pinches his butt.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Keith growls, sliding a hot, heavy palm over the pinched spot. "God only knows how we all stumbled into each other in Denver but if I didn't already believe at least a bit in God, that might have just done it."

Shep blinks, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. It's the most forthright declaration he's ever heard from Keith, something he hadn't dared to hope for from the bigger man yet, and suddenly he wants, very much, to hold on and never let go.

The bed creaks as Anderson stands and he remembers what started all this, and, more painfully, how soon Anderson has to leave them. And as much as he hates having to pull away from Keith, he also knows that they'll have all the time they need to figure out this new depth... while Anderson is on the other side of the world.

"Stay there," Shep says to Anderson, and goes to the dresser, digging through a drawer of Ole Miss gear neither of the other two ever bother to touch.

"Something to remember me by?" asks Anderson, amused, and Shep smiles softly to himself. If this goes like he thinks it will...

"You could say that," he says lightly, and turns around. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Anderson does, after only a brief surprised glance at Keith, and Shep lays the object in his open palms.

Anderson opens his eyes and looks, really looks at what's in his hands, and then with a hitching sob yanks Shep close and hugs him for all he's worth.

Shep soothes him through it, rubbing his back, running fingers through his hair. "Now I'll always be with you," Shep says, a little foolishly, and Anderson lets out a teary laugh.

"God," he says, blue eyes shining, "I really do love you, Shepard Smith."

"Just as much as I love you," Shep murmurs, and means it with everything in him.

Rather impatiently, Keith clears his throat.

"Oh!" says Anderson. "Sorry."

And he holds up Shep's gift: a tiny, plush toy sloth, barely big enough to fill his hand, small enough to fit in a pocket or empty corner of a well-worn duffel.

Keith stares for a long minute, something indecipherable passing behind those gray eyes, and when he speaks it comes out much hoarser than either of the other two expected. "What'll you call him?"

Anderson studies the little toy with soft, glowing eyes, looking up through his lashes at Shep. "I think Rebel would do the trick," he says softly. "Don't you?"

His throat clogged with tears, Shep just nods.

When Anderson slings the duffel over his shoulder, though, Keith reaches out. "Wait," he says huskily. "He gave you something to take with you. Now it's my turn."

And without further ado, Keith walks over to Shep, takes his face in thick, sturdy hands, and looks into his eyes.

"I love you," Keith blurts, never looking away. "Shep Smith, I love you so much it hurts. And I don't know what gift of Providence sent you stumbling into our arms that night but whatever it was, thank God for it. Thank _God_. I love you, so much. And I'm so sorry it took me so long to say it."

In the doorway, Anderson drops his bag with a thud. "You're right," he whispers. "That really is something to take with me." And he wraps long, pale arms around both of them, hugging them fiercely, kissing first Shep's temple and then Keith's. "I love you both so much. And I can't wait to come _home_."

Silently, Shep tucks his face against Anderson's shoulder and cries.

"Hey now, what's this?" asks Keith, alarmed. "Shep, baby, what is it?"

"I just," he says, as Anderson hugs him closer and presses a kiss to his temple. "I didn't think - I didn't expect to - I love you so much and I - oh, God, _Keith._ "

And then they're kissing, messy and desperate, fingers clutching at each other behind Anderson's back and at each other's shoulders, and Shep has never been more torn in his life - lose himself in Keith now, the way he so desperately wants to, or hold on until Anderson is out the door?

Andy solves that problem for them, kissing them both on the temple before gently disentangling himself. "I have to go," he says regretfully, tucking the plush sloth safely inside his duffel and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He tugs Shep in for one last kiss, soft and sweet and undeniably loving, then does the same with Keith. "I'm crazy about you both," he murmurs, just loudly enough for Shep to hear. "Absolutely crazy. Take care of him, okay?"

"You betcha," Keith murmurs back, not a trace of irony in his voice. "You better come back to make sure I'm doing it right, got it?"

"Wild horses, babe," says Anderson, not even bothering to fight the smile. "Wild horses."

Then Keith folds Shep into his arms, hugging him close, and they stand there together, holding on to each other, as the door slowly eases shut.

~*~

When the last of Anderson's footsteps have faded from the hallway, Keith looks down at him, gray eyes serious. "It's never been as easy for you, has it?" he asks quietly. "As it has been with Anderson, I mean."

"No," Shep replies, not looking away from Keith's eyes. "It hasn't." He takes a deep breath, and Keith's thumb strokes down his spine, soothing and gentle. "Anderson is like... the perfect Jacuzzi, I guess. Warm and welcoming, the kind of warmth that just sinks into your bones. Falling in love with him... it was as easy as breathing. Easier, even. But you - you were like touching an electric fence. You still are. It's like - it's almost too much, every time. And it feels so good, Keith, so goddamn _good,_ but it _hurts,_ too. And I don't know how to stop it."

"You and I," says Keith at last, still holding his eyes, "are never going to be you and Anderson. Or me and Anderson, for that matter. But Shep, baby - we can have more than the fire. We've never really taken the time to make love, have we?"

"Of course we have!" Shep cries out, indignant, because Keith's hands, lips, tongue, voice, _everything_ have never been anything short of adoring. Sharp and shocky and so painfully needy, yes, but if there's one thing he's never doubted it's how much Keith cares, how much he _wants,_ and -

"Shhh," soothes Keith, his thumb stroking again. "That's not what I meant, babe. I meant, we haven't gone slow, have we? Like you have with Anderson."

That, Shep can't deny. He and Anderson have spent a handful of lazy afternoons together, kissing and caressing and drowning in pleasure like liquid sunlight, but with Keith, it's always been the madness and the wildfire.

He finds, quite suddenly, that he wants very much to find out what 'slow' means with Keith Olbermann.

"Make love with me," Keith asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "Please."

Lost for words, Shep just nods.

And when Keith kisses him then, it's like nothing he's ever felt, because this kiss is all request and no demand. Gently, tenderly, Keith caresses Shep's lips with his own, soft and sweet and adoring, then feathers little kisses across his nose, his cheeks, his closed eyelids. Everything has slowed, soft and sweet like molasses, and he's drowning with it, in the reverence in Keith's touch, in the tiny little licks caressing his skin, in the fluttering of Keith's eyelashes against his forehead.

"Keith," he whispers unsteadily, and lets out a low, soft moan when Keith's hands slide down his back to cup his bottom.

"You're melting for me," Keith murmurs, awe in his voice. "I've never seen you melt for me before, God, _Shep..._ "

A shudder racks Keith's big, sturdy frame and Shep glories in it, that he can reduce this man to shaking just with the power of touch.

"I want," Keith gasps, and now it's for Shep to stroke and soothe, Shep to keep this to a glowing simmer instead of an inferno.

"I know," he murmurs, running his fingers through Keith's hair, pressing kisses to his jaw and throat. "I know, baby. Easy. We'll get there, remember? _Easy,_ darlin'. Just take it slow."

"I love you." Keith's voice is _wrecked,_ sodden, and Shep has to bury his face in Keith's shoulder and just _breathe._ "I love you, Shepard Smith, I love you, I _love you..."_

"I love you too," Shep whispers, his lips brushing Keith's ear so that he shudders helplessly. "Love you _so much,_ God, have done for so long, you're just -"

"So are you," he rasps, "Shep, _Shepard,_ so are _you..._ "

They ease each other into the bedroom with whispered promises and hot shaky murmurs, fingers working fretfully at buttons. For all they've promised each other 'slow' and 'sweet' and 'making love', there is no stopping the heat that flares between them; there's only banking it, soothing each other through hot swells and unsteady limbs. When the back of Keith's knees hit the edge of the bed he sinks down, Shep leaning over him, parting his unbuttoned shirt to rain kisses over his chest, tease his nipples, run his hands through the curly gray hair carpeting his chest. Their hips grind together messily and Keith bares his throat to the ceiling, an invitation Shep just can't resist as he presses their bodies together full-length and Keith's arms come around him to just hug him close, strong and sure and so loving Shep wants to cry.

"Oh, my darlin'," he whispers, the Mississippi coming out thick and strong in his voice, and is amazed to feel Keith shudder beneath him. "You like that? Hearin' me talk like the Southern boy I am, the Ole Miss alum from Dixie? Growin' up among cotton fields and Johnny Cash? Like hearin' the sound of the South in my voice, here in New York, here in your bed? Hearin' my accent get thicker an' thicker the more you touch me, 'cause I can't hold back any more, 'cause I'm just undone by the way your body feels against mine? Does that do it for you, my darlin'?"

There's a part of Shep - a very small part - that misses Anderson quite terribly; misses the easy warmth, the gentle, soothing hands, the shining blue eyes grounding him to reality. But another part of him is selfishly glad to have Keith - Keith Olbermann, bombastic and gruff and grumpy and brimming over with the kind of burning idealism only found in storybooks - all to himself; to discover this new connection, this new dimension to what they share, just the two of them soaked in sunlight on their king-size bed, losing themselves in scent and touch and taste and voice and joy so thick Shep thinks he might cry with it.

Keith rolls them both and Shep finds himself on his back, looking up into Keith's beaming face. The smile is one he's seen only rarely, and more often directed at Anderson than at himself; he's radiant in his happiness, crinkling the laugh lines around his eyes, sparkling warm and gray like some soft sighing sea.

Shep closes his eyes because he can't keep looking at something that bright without being blinded, and Keith bends to kiss him again, tracing kisses on his cheekbone, his temple, his closed eyelids, the bridge of his nose, on and on until his lips are resting on Shep's hairline and they're both panting with it, vibrant and fragile and far too much for either of them to bear alone.

The tenderness will be his undoing; Shep's always known that. The fire will scorch him down to ash but Keith's tenderness unmakes him, one aching cell at a time, breaking him apart until all he is, all he knows, is cast away on the wind and he is only love, only bliss, floating somewhere they'll never see but always feel.

Keith unmakes him, and remakes him, and Shep gives himself up in utter surrender.

"You are my life," Keith whispers at last, when they're skin to skin and Shep can feel every ounce of Keith's thick, solid weight pressing him into the mattress. "You and Anderson. _Both_ of you. It doesn't work without you any more, Shep. And I don't ever want it to."

"Keith." It's all he can say.

"I never thought it could happen again." Keith's thumbs rub absent circles on his shoulders, lips brushing his hairline. "Lightning isn't supposed to strike twice. Not like this. Not off the scale."

"Off the scale?"

"Off the scale," Keith mutters, as though the very thought is absurd. "Fuck the scale. You and Anderson, you break the scale over your knees and toss it out of goddamn orbit." Eyes wide and bewildered, Keith kisses him, hard and stormy, and then Shep knows _exactly_ what he means by 'off the scale' because - yeah. Yeah, if what Keith feels for him and Anderson is even half of what _he_ feels for _Keith_ and Anderson...

Out of goddamn orbit, indeed.

"You think it was bad for you," he says roughly, because if he does what he very badly wants to do - which is keep kissing Keith until neither of them can think straight - this will be over too soon and it will _not_ be slow. "Imagine getting hit by both at once."

Keith blinks. "Fuck."

God, talk about a piping hot fastball right down the middle of the strike zone.

Shep smirks. "Repeatedly."

Keith _whines,_ hips bucking wildly, crushing Shep into the mattress. "You are going to _ruin_ me," he mumbles, voice muffled against Shep's bare shoulder, and Shep grins, hands carding through Keith's hair, legs winding around Keith's like an unusually affectionate cat.

"I can only hope," Shep breathes, kissing the nearest expanse of Keith's skin. "God help me, I can only hope."

And he set about trying his best to do just that.


End file.
